Wendigo: Tag
by Hawkslayer
Summary: Yet another tag for the season 1 episode Wendigo. Dean is more injured than he seemed at the end of the episode. He needs the help of his little brother to recover and in turn helps Sam to recover from his emotional wounds. Dean whump and brotherly love.


**Yay! My first story! This is a tag to the first season episode Wendigo, because I personally think we were cheated of some lovely Dean whump. I know it's a few seasons too late but better late than never, right. Enjoy!**

"I'm driving."

Dean glanced at Sam with an eyebrow raised but tossed the keys to him, secretly hoping that his brother would fumble and drop the keys, giving Dean another reason to laugh at him, but unfortunately Sam caught the keys with an ease that would make a professional baseball player envious. Dean scowled and, having opened the passenger door of the beautiful Impala, flopped into the seat, wincing when his aching shoulders came into contact with the leather. Sam happily climbed into the driver's seat and started the car, smiling when he heard the throaty roar of the engine. He pulled off, skilfully handling the large car, despite not having driven it for years. Dean silently congratulated himself on having taught Sam to drive so well.

Sam glanced over at his older brother. Dean had closed his eyes and was leaning back in his seat, a relaxed look on his face. Although he had only just been reunited with his brother, Sam felt exactly the same prerogative to annoy him as he had done when he was younger. Keeping one eye carefully on the road, he leant over and, taking a pencil from his pocket, jabbed Dean unceremoniously in the ribs with the point.

"Ooooowwww!" Dean jerked awake, clapping a hand over the place where Sam had poked him. "What was that for?"

Sam laughed at the offended look on Dean's face. However, the laugh soon turned to a look of concern as Dean shifted position and winced.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, worry lacing his voice.

Dean smirked. It was a mere shadow of his usual cocky smirk and made Sam even more concerned. "I'm always okay, Sammy."

Sam frowned at the unsatisfactory response. This was Dean, though, so Sam wasn't entirely sure what else he could expect. He decided to let it go for now. "Fine. Whatever you say."

The truth was that Sam wasn't sure of the new boundaries between himself and Dean. When he was younger, he would have pestered Dean until he gave up whatever he was hiding. But now... Somehow, Sam felt as though he had given up that right when he had left Dad and Dean for academia. Anyway, Dean was old enough to deal with his own problems. Sam pushed his concern to the back of his mind and focused on the road as Dean once again drifted off to sleep.

When Sam had had enough of driving, the Winchesters stopped at a small run down motel. Sam decided to check in before waking his brother, allowing him a little extra time to sleep. He knew that Dean had to be hurting from being held captive by the wendigo and sympathised with his need for rest.

In the small reception office a small fragile looking old woman in the typical granny outfit, flowery top, sensible skirt and comfortable shoes, greeted Sam in a thick Texas accent. He half expected to smell cookies baking.

"Here y'are, honey," she smiled at him, "one room with two beds. You have a good night now."

"Thank you, ma'am," Sam replied with a smile. He always attempted to be polite to people, in contrast to his brother, who felt that a bad attitude was the way forward.

He headed out to the car and opened the passenger door. Dean was still asleep. Sam decided to try a more gentle method of awakening his brother this time and placed a hand on his shoulder. He shook Dean gently, then more roughly when he failed to get a response. Dean woke with a groan. He stretched slightly, then stopped with a wince. He looked up at Sam who was gazing at him with concern again.

Dean sighed. "Dude, will you stop looking at me like that. I'm fine."

Sam shook his head in exasperation but let it go. Dean frowned slightly. It wasn't like his brother to accept his word so unquestioningly.

"We have a room," Sam told him. "Room..." he looked at the tag on the key, "101."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Great." He eased himself out of the car with another wince. Sam noticed that his brother's hand was pressed against his side. His worry went up a few notches.

"Dean..."

"I'm fine!"

This time it was Sam's turn to raise his eyebrows. "I didn't say you weren't."

Dean snorted. "Then why were you looking at me like you expected me to keel over. I'm fine, Sam. I just want to sleep."

Sam nodded grudgingly. "Okay. Room's that way."

They opened the door to a small room with white washed walls and simple furnishings. The beds were dressed with sheets that looked old but clean. Dean headed to one of the beds and lay down carefully on top of the covers.

"Dean..." Sam waited for a response but one did not come. It appeared that Dean was asleep once again. Quietly, Sam made his way over to his motionless brother and poked him carefully. There was no reaction. Sam smiled. Perfect. He knew something was wrong with his brother but did not want to push him about it. But that didn't stop him from checking him over when he was asleep. He just had to do it without Dean noticing. That wouldn't be too hard; his brother slept like the dead. Moving slowly and cautiously, keeping one eye on Dean's face for any signs of wakefulness, Sam eased the hem of Dean's shirt up. His brother had shown signs of his right side hurting and Sam wanted to check whether it was just a bruise or something more sinister. Praying for the former, Sam glanced at Dean's side. What he saw made him gasp. His brother's entire side was covered with an ugly black bruise and deep slashes ran across his stomach. He placed his hand on the bruise, feeling the heat radiating from the area. Dean's ribs moved under his hand and Sam winced in sympathy. He knew the pain and discomfort that broken ribs could bring. All the more reason to confront his brother about hiding injuries and sort them out. He turned his attention to the cuts, presumably from the claws of the wendigo. He cursed himself for not noticing earlier, for not nagging Dean until he told him what was wrong. What kind of brother was he? A little voice in the back of his mind provided him with the answer he didn't want to hear. _The kind that leaves his family, _it said. _The kind that abandons his own brother and doesn't even call or write. _

Sam was saved from more self hatred and guilt by Dean stirring. He started and drew back from his brother as though burnt. In his haste he tripped over his own feet and fell back with a crash. _Well done, Sasquatch,_ he thought, annoyed. He climbed to his feet and straightened up. In doing so he failed to notice his brother's eyes on him. When he glanced at the bed again he saw Dean staring at him.

"Sam. What are you doing?"

**First chapter done! Hope everyone enjoyed it. Please review, it makes me write faster. **


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